


red velvet

by tatinkatin



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: And at summaries, Gen, I Tried, I'm Bad At Tagging, Masochism, Max is considered to be suspicious, Monsters, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, Originally written as a Halloween fic, Please have mercy, Set in an alternative universe, and Charles is curious, slight violence i guess?, superstitiousness, the end could be much darker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21545773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatinkatin/pseuds/tatinkatin
Summary: There were loads of rumours surrounding Max's true identity. And Charles just wanted to learn what the truth was.But as they say, curiosity killed the cat.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen
Kudos: 26





	red velvet

Loneliness, that was all that Charles could feel at the -ridiculously large- hall. But what could he expect? The house he was in; was nothing less than a mansion. Totally out of the ordinary for him, but some routine, perhaps boring, setting for the actual "owner" -if he could be considered that- of the whole place.

Dark walls surrounded him, with marvelous windows, hidden behind thick velvet curtains; preventing the light from entering the room. Instead, the only source of light was the few candles at the very ends and corners of the room.

A tall staircase, in the exact same color as the whole room -black just like the soul of the man he was waiting for- would lead to the upper rooms, where he was sure his _majesty_ -God make him one- was preparing for whatever he wanted to do to him.

In a few minutes he'd be there; staring down at Charles, like some small helpless animal; which he would proceed to cruelly treat.

'Why me?' Such a stupid question. So useless.

Charles had no reson to ask that, no excuse. He was the one who got himself into 'trouble'. He decided to follow the so called; _lord_ , his curiosity having overtaken him. And even if he did not go there himself at that specific day, he would go at some point. Or most likely would be taken there.

The collar of his shirt started to feel incerdibly tight, threatening to choke him anytime soon. Actually, all his clothes, which he had so carefully picked in the morning, were starting to feel strange on him, feeling more like a costume than actual clothes someone could be comfortable in.

As minutes would go by, he would start feeling even more uneasy, as if the room was shrinking and was about to crash him. Perhaps, it was the loneliness. He would try to make himself realise that he should be relieved that he was alone, but he would much rather prefer being with someone. Even with that certain someone.

What a _masochist_ he is, right?

He would much rather prefer being face to face with him, perhaps a step closer to death, but death did not scare him. To him, death was better than living; but being alone.

If his majesty, was trying to make him feel bad, then he was doing it right. He had found a soft spot -the how he did so was unknown- of his and made use of it. Used it as his advantage.

The _royal_ , was extremely smart. He would try to tire him out, consequently making him a much easier target, and consequently victim. Genius.

A small sigh escaped his lips, still sitting on that uncomfortable chair he was forced to some minutes ago. He could move, he was allowed to, but that would be exactly what that _special someone_ would want from him. But Charles was not going to give him this, even small amount of, satisfaction.

His thoughts were interrupted by a squeaky sound. It was just a faint, barely audible sound, but still enough to grab his attention.

He was coming.

A small smile appeared on Charles' lips, his anticipation growing larger, waiting for him to finally fully show himself through the shadows. A small voice in Charles' head would keep on murmuring about how he shouldn't look forward to something like this, but he would just push it to the back of his mind.

One step. Two steps.

Three steps and finally into the light. The man, who he had so curiously followed, for whom he now was an uninvited guest.

_Max Emilian Verstappen._

He had always been so eager to see who he really was and there he was. Standing in front of him, just some stairs seperating the two.

They had known each other for a long time; or most likely thought so. They may have grown up seeing each other almost daily, but Charles only now realised how secretive the other man had been all these years.

There were still so many things he didn't know about him, and maybe that was why Charles would feel that attraction to him. It was a characteristic of his, wanting to have a clear image of everyone. And Max was the only one whose image was still blurry in Charles' mind.

If someone, unware of the rumours surrounding him, saw that man, who was not older than Charles himself, they would not believe that he was a... monster. There would be rumours of him being some kind of monster, most of them leaning towards the vampire option, but nothing was confirmed. Thus, there would be titles accompanying him, too, such as _lord, royalty, majesty._ But everything was just a rumour.

In fact, his appearance showed the exact opposite. A handsome young man, with short -always parted on the side- blonde hair, ocean-like blue eyes and a bright smile.

_'Was he really a monster?'_

Having all that in mind, Charles had followed him through the woods and into the mansion, to find answers to all his questions, but only ended up getting even more confused.

"Hasn't anyone told you not to stare?" The much anticipated man; sternly said, his steps echoing in the empty room.

Charles gulped and opened his mouth to speak, but he felt as if he couldn't anymore. He had forgotten how to do so.

"Just like I thought." A smirk appeared on the royalty's face, finally stopping in front of the uninvited guest.

"I've got to admit. You are quite brave.” He started explaining, making Charles frown.

"Not a lot of people would come here, just like that, after knowing everything that has been happening here..." he continued.

"You do know what has been happening, right?" He once again sternly, asked.

"Of course. Everybody knows." Were the first words Charles dared to say.

It was not a secret that this mansion was considered to be haunted by many. Uncountable crimes had happened right in this building, all on a certain day. Halloween day. 

"Then, what brought you here?" He asked, his eyewbrow raised, that cunning smirk not leaving his lips.

"You."

"Me?" Max seemed a little taken back by the answer.

"I followed you, so you brought me here. But if you ask me why I did that, then the answer has to be curiosity." Charles explained, finishing the sentence with a small smile.

"And what were you curious about?"

"Who you are. Like, in reality. You will introduce yourself to everyone in town like the boy next door, but now you are just acting like some kind of--"

"Monster? Yes, I've also heard the rumours." Max finished the sentence, arms now crossed and his gaze piercing through Charles.

"So, is it true?" Charles, immediately asked, not even taking a moment to think about it.

Max didn't reply, instead just chuckled and turned his back to him.  
"It's based on what you consider to be a monster." He said, his voice even deeper than usual.

Charles could make out that the _lord_ was taking something out of his pocket, before turning back to him.

"These people. How pathetic they are. They can go over and think of the craziest theories. That I am a vampire, a werewolf, some kind of disguised demon, but they can't think of the most obvious." He said, his right hand occupied by a dagger, which he, so delicately, would whirl around his fingers.

"Let me tell you, I'm nothing of those. But, I can be considered something else." He said moving even closer, pressing the dagger against Charles' pale skin, leaving a small cut on his cheek.

It was so close to the latter's eyes, that he thought it could poke it anytime soon, which only urged him to look away from it. However, before doing so, he noticed something much more interesting. On that object was carved a name. He, internally, struggled to manage and read it, but was finally able to achieve his goal.

He could spot the word Verstappen on it, which made him scoff thinking of what a narcissist that man could be, but was a little too quick to do so.  
Then, he read the first name. That was what shocked him.

Jos.

_Jos Verstappen._

But how? Or most likely why? Why were they all so blind? Why wouldn't they notice?

"Where did you find that dagger?" Charles asked softly and as inoccently as he could.

"Why are you asking?" The man in front of him replied with a question, a frown forming on his face.

"The name. It isn't yours." He replied, pointing at the dagger, which was now pulled away from his face.

Max let a smile form on his face as he touched the carved letters on the dagger.  
"You're the first one to notice." He -somehow- complimented him.

Charles kept staring into these blue eyes of his, with anticipation to finally learn the truth- or most likely- confirm his thought.

"It's my father's. But you must've already guessed that." He, so-openly talked about it, as if he was talking about the next day's plans.

How couldn't anyone notice the simillarities between the two, father and son, both on appearance and character? How could the fact that they had the same last name, not ring a bell to anyone? What was wrong with all of them, including Charles himself?

But these were not the only thoughts that troubled Charles' mind. Clearly not. He was in the hands of the son of one of the biggest criminals in history. The man who was behind the 'Halloween murders'. And that tradition seemed to run through the family.

And the worst thing, might have been the fact that he was the one to succumb, follow him on a Halloween night, as if he wanted to be the next victim. Lose his life in Max's hands.

His mouth felt sore, with his lips slightly parted and eyes wide. He was still not scared, but knowing that he most likely was the next victim of the family, did make him feel a shiver run down his spine.

The blonde was coming closer to him once again, their eyes locked, dagger still in hand, threatening to harm him.

"Just do it." Charles said, trying hard to not let his voice sound shaky.

"What should I do?" It was Max's turn now to ask innocently.

"You know what..." Charles replied in a small voice, eyes no longer able to look at the other man.

The smile on the murderer's face widened, as he was bringing the dagger on Charles' neck. He started tracing a line across it, but only left a scar on it.

Charles closed his eyes and pressed his lips.  
_'So that's the end.'_ He thought, before letting out a sigh.

The pain started stinging even more, as Max proceeded to, precisely, cut a little deeper every time, but it did not scare him. There was no reason to. Perhaps, it was for the best. He had many more people waiting for him in the heavens, than back, at his home.

He had already gotten used to the pain, when it abruptly stopped. The sense of the cold metal against his neck was gone and the only source of pain was the cut that Max had left on his neck.

Charles frowned and opened his eyes, only to come across Max who was a little to close to his face.

"You know, you'd be a really good victim, but it wouldn't be fun to just kill you." He said the smile on his face softening a little.

"Instead, it'll be much more fun to see you struggle to keep your mouth shut about everything you witnessed." He said and moved away from the Monegasque.

"And who says I will?"

"You wouldn't like to come back here, would you?" Max asked, throwing one last glance at him behind his back.

Charles stayed there in silence. What he said was indeed, true. He wouldn't really want to.

"Just what I had expected." He said and moved up the stairs.

"You're free to go." He sternly said; before disappearing in the darkness of the corridors.

Charles finally stood up from that chair, and moved towards the exit of the mansion, small steps every time. He felt like some weight was lifted off his shoulders, but some more was put on them. He had to never talk about it. About Max, about what he experienced. Otherwise, God knows what could happen to him.

Perhaps he was a little scared now.

**Author's Note:**

> So... that's it. As you may have (or have not) understood, English is not my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes. I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
